Never Out Of Stockings
by Writress
Summary: Angel has always had a wish, for just one thing, and when Collins hears about it, the reaction isn't exactly ideal. But what comes from this? Just Fluffy Angel/Collins because you can never have too much. T, cause it's RENT. Please Review. Oneshot


**Note: These characters and the concept of this world is the creation and brain child of Mr. Jonathan Larson the creator of RENT. So, uh, I can't get sued. Right? Viva, la vie Boehme**. **Feel free to review**

_Angel stared at Collins sweetly. His eyes are dark and focused on the face of the man standing in front of him, grading papers frustratedly. He looks up, seeing Angel still draped over the chair in front of him. "What?" he said. _

"_There's only one thing I want in the world. You know what that is?"_

_Collins stopped what he was doing. Talking to Angel required his full attention. "What baby?"_

"_That's just it. A baby. A baby girl." Angel looked into Collins skeptical face. "What! Ever since I was a little Angel I wanted a little girl. With my eyes. And our hair. Like, really curly. And my fabulous sense of style. And your fun loving attitude. The perfect mix of us."_

_Collins sighed mumbling. "And HIV huh. Guess you want your baby girl to have that too."_

_The cold and windy apartment room seemed to chill with the words. Realizing what he had said, Collins looked up to Angel. "Oh god Angel. I didn't mean that."_

"_Not a problem." Angel couldn't look at Collins though, and slowly started to stand up. "I'm out of stockings. I'll be back."_

_Collins knew Angel was never, never, out of stockings._

_21 Months Later_

_Angel lay in the hospital bed. His eyes, sunken further into his skull from the loss of weight that had occurring before and during this hospital stay, were shut tight, though he couldn't sleep, no matter how he tried. The monitor attached to him gave a slow but sure and determined series of beeps. For now, he could rest. Collins was down in the infant ward with their daughter. Angel had constantly thanked the woman who had served as a surrogate for little Dumont to be born. However, they had known something was wrong from the moment she was born, and to this day the almost one year old infant had stayed in this hospital 6 times. She was the perfect mix of her parents, like Collins in appearance and Angel in personality._

_Unfortunately, she had been Collin's bitter prediction; HIV positive from birth. Angel would have regretted even having the girl for that one reason, if not for the joy that it brought him to see his little girl with the curly hair he adored. After the child's birth however, Angel's T-Cells had dropped to a new low, and he had been in the hospital for at least two months straight now. He could feel the end was coming nearer, and nearer. He didn't want to be alone. _

_He wanted to see his child, and Collins, and his Mimi-chica, and Maureen, and Roger, Mark and Joanne. He needed them to comfort him right about now._

_It was about then when he heard the door open. Opening his eyes, he turned his head slowly towards the door. Collins, giving an obviously forlorn smile, kissed his forehead. "Hello my Angel."_ _There was no way he wouldn't smile back. He was Collins. He loved him._

_Right now. Right now he could feel it coming, hearing the beeps on the monitor slow. "Don't you wanna hold me Collins? Just one more time?"_

_Collins looked toward the door. "Are you sure Angel?"_

_Angel smiled, laughing hoarsely. "I ain't takin' no for an answer." Collins smiled, slipping into the hospital bed, wrapping his long dark arms around the tender and gentle body of his lover. "Keep her safe Collins. Ok?" Collins could only nod, his throat choked up. "Make sure she takes her AZT or whatever. Get her in a group. Let her make friends. Keep her sense of style up. Ok?"_

_Collins could only smile. "Ok baby. Ok."_

_Angel smiled on last time, his eyes closing. "Good." He hummed to himself, patting his hands on Collins leg, before whispering to herself. "Oh. Lover. I'll cover you."_

_The noise of the heart monitor came like a blow to Collins head. The noise wasn't necessary to tell him what happened. _

_Flatline._

6 years later

Dumont held her father's hand. She was thin, and frail, a mild light brown that could easily be passed for tan. Bundled up in a thick coat far too big for her, a woolen hat and a scarf, she was warm in the winter snow. She looked to her father, as they walked. "It seems like forever since our last picnic."

"I know," her father replied. Collins was taller that he had been before, now freshly clean shave and holding his daughters hand tight. "I always like it when we have picnics in December. You know, your mother was like a Christmas present for me. I met her just before Christmas."

Dumont nodded quietly, as she often did when speaking of her mother. The two walked in silence a while longer, before finally arriving at their destination. Kneeling down, Collins placed the basket on the ground, opening it and pulling out a blanket to spread on the ground. Dumont helped, and pulled on the other side of the tablecloth, a familiar print. She rummaged in the basket, pulling out three sandwiches. "One for you," she said, handing one to her father. "One for me," she murmured, taking one and placing it on the opposite side of the blanket. "And some flowers for Mommy." Dumont placed the Tulips on the tombstone that marked where her mother, Angel Dumont Schunard had been buried.

"Ready?" her father said, and Dumont nodded, taking her place by her sandwich, taking it out of its plastic bag.

"You won't believe what happened since November Mommy," Dumont said chirpily. "Aunt Mimi's having a baby! I don't know where it's gonna come from, but she told me it's in her stomach." Collins couldn't help but smile at his little girl.


End file.
